


Would You Give Up on Us?

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Series: Soulmates Have no Timing [3]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Background Relationships, British Grand Prix 2016, Complicated Relationships, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Heart Arrhythmia, Heartbreak, Hospitals, M/M, Miscommunication, Narrative Time Jumps, Pining, Post-Break Up, Relationship Negotiation, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, Unrequited Love, past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: Everyone said teammates couldn't be friends, and they'd been right. After four years of each other, they couldn't stand to breathe the same air any longer. But Mark and Sebastian weren't teammates anymore, and a second chance at happiness, three years later, might work. It would take time, but time was something Mark had a limited supply of. Besides, neither of them believed there was anything left to salvage to begin with. What are soulmates supposed to do when they can't even stand in the same room together?





	1. 2013

**Author's Note:**

> Sequal to _Don't You Need Me?_ I would suggest reading that first; though it is not strictly necessary to understand this story, the characters here reference the events that take place there several times.

 

> _We had to learn how to bend_
> 
> _without the world caving in_
> 
> _I won’t give up on us_
> 
> _even if the skies get rough_
> 
> Jason Mraz – I Won’t Give Up
> 
>  

He’d done it again. He’d won. Seb couldn’t believe it. For the fourth time in a row, he had won the Driver’s Championship – and the season wasn’t even over yet. It felt like everything he’d ever wanted. It was perfect, and Seb was floating high on copious amounts of happiness, adrenaline, and alcohol.

The team had taken him out to a club to celebrate, and he was definitely enjoying himself. The music was Indian, and he didn’t know most of it, but the beat was good and there was plenty of champagne, so he was happy. He had drunk himself into oblivion a good two drinks ago, but what was the point of winning if you couldn’t celebrate?

Eventually, though, he needed to stop to take a piss, and drunkenly found his way to the restroom. He caught sight of his reflection in the grimy mirror when he was washing his hands. A dark spot was visible through his white t-shirt, under his left collarbone. Seb squinted at it in the mirror. He wasn’t sure what it could be; a bruise, maybe, but he couldn’t remember getting one there before.

Seb dried his hands with paper towel and yanked his shirt collar down enough to see the spot properly. Red, white, and yellow lines spiraled out from a common center. Sebastian watched in awe as a blue line wove its way across the top, leaving a web of cursive letters in its wake. _I must be more drunk than I thought,_ Seb reasoned dimly. He felt like he should be freaking out more than he was, but he couldn’t manage any emotion greater than confusion.

Seb blinked, rubbing his eyes, and looked at the reflection again. The blue line had stopped moving and a line of cursive was left behind. Seb decided he’d just been hallucinating; what other explanation could there be? It took him a moment to place the colors, but they reminded him of Red Bull. He leaned closer to the mirror to squint at the cursive. Could he have gotten a tattoo? Was he that drunk? He couldn’t tell what the language was; it looked like it might be a name.

Seb straightened abruptly. If it was a name, that meant he had a soulmate. That was the only answer. If it was a soulmate make, it would at least explain the hallucination. He knew he was drunk, so he let the thought permeate his drowned brain for a minute. A soulmate. _That’s a big deal_ , he decided. Everyone knew that a soulmate mark reflected the soulmate, but Seb couldn’t see why his mark was in Red Bull colors. Who at Red Bull could be his soulmate? Had they met?

Seb leaned back toward the mirror and peered at the mark closer, trying to make out the name on top. It looked like someone’s signature. _Why a signature?_ Sebastian wondered as he stared at it. _Why not a more legible name?_ It looked like it might start with an “M,” with lots of loops at the end. It looked vaguely familiar, but Seb couldn’t think whose signature he would be familiar with beside his own, except maybe Mark’s–

“Oh,” Seb whispered to his reflection, suddenly realizing. Mark. That would explain the Red Bull colors, at least.

“Nooo,” Seb drawled to the mirror. “It’s not Mark. I don’t even _like_ Mark!” he insisted. His reflection stared back at him, but it didn’t look so convinced. “Do I?”

Seb didn’t know the answer to that question, and he was far too drunk to figure it out just then. But even in his alcohol-doused mind, he knew that Mark didn’t love him. That was made painfully obvious every time they were in the same room.

“Well then,” Seb said confidently to his reflection. “I don’t need him either.” He nodded once to himself, as if to reassure himself that was true, and marched out of the restroom.

The minute he hit the dance floor again, Seb felt supremely self-conscious that someone else would notice the mark the same way he did, and he didn’t want that. Not that day, when he’d won the championship. He wanted that to be about him; he didn’t want Mark to have anything to do with it.

Seb wandered to the bar in the hope that more alcohol would help make his fears go away, but he couldn’t even look the bartender in the eye when he approached, too afraid he would see the soulmate mark. Seb decided not to risk it, paid his tab, and walked back toward the exit.

 

 

“Have you seen Seb?” Mark yelled, striving desperately to be heard over the obnoxiously loud music.

“What?” the mechanic – for the life of him, Mark couldn’t remember the man’s name – yelled back.

“Where’s Sebatian?” Mark yelled again, louder, but the mechanic only shook his head and waved Mark off. “Damn!” Mark swore, turning back to scan the crowd again. Seb had to be there somewhere; it was his party, after all. If Mark knew Seb, he was probably completely wasted, dancing like there was no tomorrow, but for all his height Mark couldn’t see him. Mark swore again.

Standing at the bar wasn’t doing him any good, so Mark pushed himself into the knot of dancing people wearing Red Bull shirts. Seb wasn’t looking to get laid – he had a girlfriend for that when he got back to Switzerland (or maybe not, after what had happened, Mark acknowledged) – in any case, Mark figured it was likely Seb had stayed with the rest of the team like a good little boy.

“Mark!” an engineer yelled in surprise when he saw him. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s Seb?” Mark yelled back, but the engineer only shrugged helplessly at him. Mark growled in frustration and kept plowing through the Red Bull shirts. It would be just like the kid to ditch his own party and leave Mark stranded looking for him. Mark doubted highly he’d seen it yet, and had seriously considered waiting until the next morning to do this, but there was an itch under his skin he couldn’t quite banish that insisted he do it immediately.

Mark reached the middle of the knot, but there was no sign of Seb. He had an unexplainable feeling of panic starting to form just below his ribs. Mark spun around wildly, wondering if he could have possibly missed him–

He caught sight of a shock of curly blond hair between people’s heads at the bar. It could have been anyone with blond hair, but he marched toward it anyway. They disappeared from his sight and Mark felt himself panic more as he pushed himself to go faster, gently but firmly moving people out of his way. He reached the spot at the bar where they had been, but there wasn’t a strand of blond hair in sight. Mark spun wildly again, searching the immediate crowd– _goddamnit, why is Seb so short?!_

Mark’s eyes landed on the exit, and he noticed a blond head moving in that direction. But Seb wouldn’t be leaving his own party; not unless– Mark made a beeline in that direction, quickly weaving his way through the crowd. The closer he got, the more certain he was it was Seb. The hair was right, the height was right, the shirt was right; he grabbed the man’s shoulder and Seb turned around to look at him.

 _He’s completely wasted_ , Mark realized. Seb’s eyes were glassy, his pupils slightly too constricted for the dim club. He stared at Mark, his expression somewhere between confusion and recognition. Even if he had noticed, Mark thought, he definitely hadn’t comprehended it.

“C’mon,” Mark muttered, pushing Seb toward the exit. Seb yelled something at him, but the club was too loud and his accent too thick for Mark to make a word of it out. Seb didn’t resist, so Mark just kept pushing him toward the exit.

The air outside was no cooler than the air inside, but it was significantly fresher and Mark breathed it in gratefully. He had his arm wrapped around Seb’s shoulders because he was worried the kid would fall over without him. He turned them in the direction of the hotel, wanting to get the drunk Seb off the street as quickly as possible. Seb muttered something unintelligible again and Mark looked down at him.

“What?”

Seb looked up at him with big eyes and a bitter look Mark had gotten quite familiar with in the past four years. “You’re my soulmate.” Seb mumbled, then paused briefly. “I hate you,” he added a moment later, and Mark could barely process Seb’s words. The panic in his stomach did something weird and he had to look away.

“Blood hell, no,” he snapped, not entirely sure what he was denying. “I can’t believe I’m doing this with you.” What “this” was, Mark would never know, but he let go of Seb, who immediately almost fell over, and shouted, “Find your own way back,” before marching away toward the hotel.

“Fuck you!” Seb yelled back. Mark’s heart was racing so fast he thought it was going to beat its way straight up his throat and out his mouth. At least, if nothing had changed, he knew exactly where they stood.


	2. 2016

Sebastian’s phone rang as he walked out of the elevator. One glance at the contact name, and he almost didn’t pick up. He never wanted to pick up these calls, never knew what to say, always ended up with a massive headache. They always seemed to come right when he was getting over him.

Sebastian looked around the lobby, and decided to duck into the maze of conference rooms in the back of the hotel. He rounded a few corners and finally answered his phone.

“Mark.” He kept his voice as emotionless as possible. Mark called him; he could do all the talking.

“Hey, mate. Wanted to say congrats on a good race.” Mark’s voice was tinny on the other end of the line, but Sebastian was used to it. This was how they did most of their talking, after all.

“Right. Thanks. What do you really want?” Sebastian knew it had to be more than that. Mark wouldn’t call him out of the blue just to say “good race.” Not anymore, anyway.

Mark laughed self-depreciatingly. “You know me so well,” he quipped, bitterly, but Sebastian refused to take the bait. “I really do just want to talk, Seb. About anything.”

“Sebastian,” he corrected, and there was a pause on the other end.

“…Sorry?”

“I go by Sebastian now. Not Seb.” He was keeping his voice perfectly neutral, but only barely. His head was already starting to hurt.

“Er, _why?”_ Mark sounded completely incredulous, and Sebastian felt himself start to scowl in frustration.

“Because I’m not a _child_ anymore. Which means, you know, you don’t have to be so condescending all the time,” he growled into the phone angrily.

“Tell me how you really feel about it,” Mark snapped back, and Sebastian laughed out loud.

“And there you go again! Did you call me just so you could get into an argument and hang up on me angrily? Is that the idea?”

“Hey! You hang up on me! Every damn time!” Mark argued back, and Sebastian shook his head at the wall, not bothering to justify that with a response. There was a pause in their argument, and for a moment Sebastian fanaticized he could hear Mark’s breathing over the phone. It seemed rushed, like he’d been running, but that didn’t make any sense and Sebastian chalked it up to feedback on the call.

“We’re _soulmates_ , Seb-Sebastian,” Mark eventually insisted quietly. He seemed suddenly desolate. “We should see each other more than once a year.” They’d been over this before, and Sebastian was not about to start it again. That life wasn’t possible anymore.

 “Mark, I don’t care-“ he started flatly, but Mark cut him off before he could continue.

“Believe me, mate, I _know_ how much you don’t care about me,” Mark said, his voice dropping back to bitter sarcasm that Sebastian could hear plainly even over the phone. The throbbing in Sebastian’s head doubled in intensity, and he had to resist the urge to grind his teeth in pain.

“Mark Webber, you complete fucking asshole!” he said instead, redirecting his anger to Mark, because this is what they always did, back and forth; it was all they knew how to do. Mark didn’t say anything for a moment, and Sebastian was left with just the pain bouncing around in his skull.

“It feels that way, you know, mate. It’s getting harder to get along without you; I’m not as young as I used to be. The side effects aren’t as easy to manage anymore.” Once Mark started talking it seemed like he didn’t want to stop, and with each word Sebastian’s headache got a little worse. He knew that by the time it reached this level no amount of sleeping pills would get him a good night’s sleep.

“I _know_ , Mark; I know,” Sebastian said, and meant it, because to a certain extent he did. Mark had ten years on him, but the last three had been brutal to Sebastian. Some days he could barely function with the pounding in his head, could barely keep his eyes open due to the miserable amount of sleep he’d gotten. The shit cars didn’t really help much, either.

Mark snorted on the other line, clearly not believing it. Sebastian felt tired to his bones. He turned restlessly, feeling like pacing, and suddenly there was someone there, watching him. There was _Lewis_ there, and Sebastian had no idea what to do about that. Lewis had a wide-eyed and embarrassed look, and Sebastian was pretty sure he looked no better. He needed to do something but he couldn’t fucking _think_.

 _“Scheisse,”_ was all he could manage. He vaguely heard Mark start talking on the other end of the line, and it occurred to him he should probably hang up.

“Mar-“ _Don’t say his name, Dummkopf!_ “-I have to go. I’ll call you later.” Sebastian didn’t wait to hear what Mark had to say to that, but pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up as quickly as he could. He stared at the lock screen because it seemed like a better idea that staring at Lewis.

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to-“ Lewis started, and Sebastian almost flinched at his choice of words. He waved blindly in Lewis’ direction, shutting down the apology. This wasn’t his fault.

“No.” Sebastian finally looked up at Lewis and shook his head with resolve. “If I wanted privacy, I should have gone to my room. I just have to ask you…” Sebastian stopped talking as his brain caught up with his eyes and registered what he was seeing; he completely tuned out everything else. There were oddly-shaped blue splotches, and black and green lines, on Lewis’ left arm. Sebastian was pretty sure that wasn’t just a partial tattoo.

“Sebastian?” Lewis asked, and Sebastian wasn’t sure how long Lewis had been calling his name.

“Lewis,” Sebastian started, looking him in the eye. “What happened to your arm?” Part of him hated to put Lewis on the spot, but he couldn’t help it.

Lewis looked down at his arm, but not before Sebastian caught a decidedly panicked look in his eyes. He stared at his arm for a long time, managing only to respond with an uncertain “er,” as if he wasn’t sure. Sebastian knew exactly what it was, and he plastered a happy smile on his face because most people were excited about the whole soulmate thing.

“You have a soulmate!” he exclaimed in the brightest tone he could muster, and moved close to see it the mark better.

“I…yeah,” Lewis sighed. “I guess I do.” He didn’t sound that excited to Sebastian, but he could hardly blame Lewis. He just hoped Lewis’ experience was better than his own.

“You don’t know their name yet,” he commented. The blue splotches would probably spell something eventually, but it wasn’t far enough along yet. It was a really distinctive color, though. Sebastian only knew maybe one other person that color made him think of aside from Lewis.

“No, not yet. And it’s taking it’s time, too,” Lewis whined. Sebastian laughed, remembering his own soulmate mark.

“Mine didn’t,” he said, the words falling out before he had the chance to think about it, but it felt surprisingly good to tell someone. “Mine happened in about an hour.” Sebastian could remember watching the last of it appear in a restroom mirror, too drunk to think clearly about the implications. He laughed again, because if he wasn’t laughing he was pretty sure he’d start crying.

“I didn’t know you had a soulmate?” Lewis said, more question than statement. He was frowning at Sebastian suspiciously, and Sebastian could understand why. Just as it had started to feel genuine again, Sebastian could feel his good mood slip away.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t tell. Anyone.” Sebastian wasn’t sure what else to say, so he shrugged, trying to play it down and knowing he was failing.

“But you’re telling me,” Lewis questioned again. Sebastian cracked a wry grin.

“I think you might have the same problem I did.” He pointed at the blue spots on Lewis’ arm.

Lewis looked at him like he’d spoke German. “Which is?”

Sebastian wasn’t sure he could put it all into words without losing it, so he pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the disc-sized circle of Red Bull colors. Mark’s loopy, barely-legible signature was scrawled on top in blue. Sebastian could have drawn it by heart.

Lewis still looked confused, so Sebastian swallowed hard and tried to explain through another beginning headache. “I found my soulmate the end of the 2013 season.” He let his collar fall back into place. “They say the design of your mark is how you see your soulmate, and they’re not wrong. In 2013, the only other person I associated instantly with Red Bull was Mark. His is in exactly the same place, exactly the same colors, only with my signature. I couldn’t believe it; I don’t think he could, either. Not at first.” Sebastian smiled. He liked the idea that they had the same mark; it was very rare, and it made them unique.

“That’s who you were on the phone with,” Lewis said, understanding dawning on him.

Sebastian thought back to the phone call, and his mood dropped a little more. Mark was always a fucking roller coaster. “Yeah,” he almost whispered. There was a long silence, and Sebastian knew his grief was showing on his face, but it was getting harder and harder to not feel that way about Mark all the time.

“Why do you think I have the same problem you did?” Lewis finally questioned, shattering the quiet. “I have no idea who my soulmate is.”

Sebastian offered him a sad smile; if he was right, Lewis was in for a hell of a ride. “Don’t you? I mean, who else actually _likes_ that color?” Sebastian grasped Lewis’ wrist and pointed at a splotch of blue. Sebastian could see on his face the exact moment that Lewis understood.

“No,” he said immediately, confidently, waving his other hand in denial. “No way.”

Sebastian laughed, letting his arm go. This was all painfully familiar. “See, that’s what Mark said!”

“He doesn’t even _like_ me!” Lewis practically yelled. “I don’t even like _him!”_

“Are you sure about that last part?” Sebastian asked, the words ringing through his ears. He somehow managed to keep the smile on his face anyway. Lewis opened his mouth to object, and Sebastian warned, “Be honest.”

“I-“ Lewis started, stopped, and sighed. “No,” he whispered.

Sebastian nodded. “That’s what I said.” _And somehow we still managed to fuck it up_.

Lewis stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen in shock. Sebastian knew that feeling – the sense of utter loss that came when the entire world just stopped and shifted 180 degrees and you were expected to just deal with it.

“I need a drink,” Lewis declared. He started to walk away then stopped. “How do you get out of here?”

Sebastian knew two things about mixing alcohol with soulmate symptoms: both the symptoms and the hangover were ten times worse; and even when drunk, you never really felt any less miserable. “This way,” he said, turning back the way he’d come. “I’ll join you.”

 

 

At this point, Mark wasn’t even surprised Seb – no, _Sebastian_ was what he insisted on now, pompous little shit that he was – had hung up on him without so much as an explanation. Mark had come to expect nothing less from him. He should probably just be grateful Seb – _Sebastian_ – had taken his call in the first place. And that was fine. That was just fine. If Seb didn’t want to talk to him, that was _fine_. He had his own life; he had his own priorities that _clearly_ didn’t include Mark; he had his own absolutely _stellar_ career in Formula 1 that _definitely_ didn’t need Mark at-fucking-all–

Mark keeled over as his vision went spotty, and he realized he was hyperventilating. His chest ached, a painful seizing in his heart, and Mark collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor. He kept his head between his knees to help with the dizziness, and purposefully took deep, slow breaths. He counted them, focusing only on that, and eventually, 262 breaths later, his breathing returned to normal and the ache in his chest dissipated. Mark leaned back against the wall, physically and mentally exhausted, covered in a light sheen of sweat.

It wasn’t much longer before Mark stopped shaking and recovered enough energy to force himself to get up. He went to the kitchen and got a glass of water first, then to his bedroom, where he took his pulse and recorded it in a notebook. He added the time and date, and how long he thought the panic attack had lasted. He finished the water and returned to the kitchen to refill it.

The house was getting dark as the sun set, and quiet. Normally that would bother Mark, and he’d run the TV or the stereo to fill the silence, but it seemed to suit his self-pitying mood. He stared out the window, over a stretch of tall grass and out on to the lake – he wouldn’t have it any other way. He cracked the window and listened to the soft shush of the waves, dull and steady, filling the empty space in the house.

Mark was in the middle of opening all the windows in the house when his phone rang. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, but it was Fernando, and Mark could not say no to him for anything.

“Hey, mate. Tough race today. How’re you doing?”

“I think I should ask _you_ that question, _hermano_ ,” Fernando said on the other end of the line. Mark frowned at the window in front of him.

“Why?”

“I just get back to the hotel, and I see Sebastian already in the bar,” Fernando explained, and Mark bristled slightly.

“Well, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Did you get in another fight?”

“ _Fernando_ -“ Mark warned.

“I do not say anything,” Fernando backed off. He was one of two people Mark had told about his soulmate, and Mark knew very well and he did not approve of the alienation between the two of them. “I worry about you, _hermano.”_

“I worry about _you_ ,” Mark rebutted. “That was a fucking bad crash in Melbourne.”

Fernando scoffed. “I am fine. Barely a scratch. But you could, ah, what is expression? Drop dead any time?”

Mark rolled his eyes and moved to open the next window. “That’s not how it works. The arrhythmia is only really a problem when I talk to him-“

“-or have panic attack,” Fernando threw in.

“Which only happens when I talk to him. I’ll have a great life, as long as I never talk to him,” Mark insisted, yanking the window open. It was a bald-faced lie, so he qualified it slightly so Fernando wouldn’t get suspicious. “Or even think about him, really.”

“Is ridiculous, Mark,” Fernando said, and he sounded genuinely upset. More so than he had the last time they’d discussed this, and Mark felt bad. But at least Fernando wasn’t calling his bluff. “You two are killing the other.”

“Well, I always said the kid would be the death of me,” Mark huffed to his empty living room.

 _“_ _Es verdad, pero que_ _nunca_ – ah, you never are serious,” Fernando challenged, and Mark shrugged into space.

“I don’t know, Fernando. Maybe I was just predicting my future.”

“I do not like this,” Fernando challenged, and Mark couldn’t deny that he didn’t like it either. His chest started to ache dully.

“We should change the subject,” he said flatly, and he could almost feel Fernando’s eye roll all the way from Spain.

“Fine,” he intoned, sounding like the idea was anything but fine. “What do you want to talk about?”

“When are you going to get that damn engine working?” Mark joked, and it was a bit of a low blow, but fair was fair.

“We should change the subject,” Fernando responded instantly, and Mark roared with laughter. “We could talk about Spa,” he continued cheekily, and Mark’s laughter turned to groaning.

“God no; please let’s not,” he whined, and Fernando chuckled on the other end of the line.

“Crazy sport, no?”

“Crazy sport,” Mark agreed, and he dropped onto the couch with a huff. “Kinda makes you wonder why you do it.”

“Yes it does,” Fernando responded with feeling. Mark was taken aback by the venom in his voice.

“You thinking of leaving?”

He listened to Fernando sigh on the other end. “I cannot, not yet. I have the contract for next season,” he explained. “But it is not so fun anymore, no? All the rules. They are difficult on drivers, they are difficult on engineers. The cars are not so good unless you are Mercedes.” There was a pause and Mark could tell Fernando had shrugged. “I wait until contract is over and see how it is. If I like it.”

“Only thing you can do, mate,” Mark agreed quietly. “Don’t let it get to you.”

“No,” Fernando agreed immediately. “I already proved what I need to. I want to have fun.”

Mark snorted in amused agreement, thinking about the end of his own career. The last two years he wasn’t even sure Red Bull would keep him. It was a variable sport, and the contracts always came and went with a driver’s luck, but the 2012 season had been more stress than anything. Next to Vettel, with other younger kids popping up like weeds, Mark had almost been convinced they would drop him, make room for people who actually won championships–

“What do you think about?” Fernando asked suddenly, startling Mark. He wondered how long he’d been quiet as he frantically scrambled for an excuse.

“Nothing,” he said, before he could stop himself. It was the stupidest fucking thing he would say all day, he was sure of it.

 _“Tonterías,”_ Fernando announced, and Mark didn’t know how to translate that, but was pretty sure it meant he was busted. “You are thinking about him again, yes?”

Mark stuttered, still trying to come up with an excuse. “Not exactly-“ he tried to say, and even he wasn’t sure what that meant.

“This is why it is no good, Mark. You are never separate of him.” Mark laughed bitterly at that.

“That was all he ever _wanted,_ Fernando. That was _never_ the problem. _I_ was the one who always wanted something he wasn’t going to give me.” Mark stopped, feeling his heart rate increase again. They sat in silence for a moment. “Maybe I should have listened. Maybe I should have let it go then. At least I wouldn’t be sitting here dying of a fucking broken heart that way,” he snarled angrily.

“That is not how it is; you know this. You would have had the damage to the heart anyway. It is because of the, ah, broken bond, not anything else” Fernando argued. Mark growled in frustration.

“It’s _unheard of_ -“

“It is rare,” Fernando corrected smoothly. “Soulmates are rare, ah, in the beginning. Science knows so little about it.”

Mark groaned. Fernando wasn’t wrong, but at the same time… “It feels pathetic.”

“This is because of Sebastian, not you,” Fernando insisted with certainty. Mark felt his heart skip a few beats at his name. Pathetic.

“I thought we were changing the topic,” Mark muttered, pulling himself off the couch and pacing through the empty house. Ann was back in Australia with Luke, visiting relatives, and Mark hated the feeling of being abandoned in the spacious house. He and Ann hadn’t been together since the soulmate mark appeared, but living with her as roommates had gone without question – especially after Sebastian turned him down flat. She’d been such a solid and irreplaceable part of his life for so long; he couldn’t imagine going through the last three years without her.

“We change the topic when you believe me,” Fernando insisted. Mark groaned and rubbed his chest with his free hand.

“Fine. I believe you.”

 _“Mientes,”_ Fernando called him. Mark still wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was pretty sure Fernando was calling his bullshit again. The only response Mark could think of was to shrug helplessly, and the silence lingered. In the end, Fernando relented. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything that’s not racing, mate.”

“Crazy sport, no?”

“Crazy sport.”

 

 

If anyone at the airport had asked, Sebastian wasn’t sure he would have been able to come up with a reason for flying to the UK. There was bullshit he could say, like “I’m visiting a friend,” but that wasn’t what he was doing. Mark wasn’t a friend, not really; friends talked more than twice a year.

In Mark’s defense, that wasn’t his fault, and recently he’d been reaching out more. Twice a year had increased to once every few months, to almost once a month, and Sebastian was starting to think there was a reason for that. After Spain, after Monaco, after Lewis and Nico – a phone call hadn’t felt like enough, so the first day off he had, Sebastian flew to England to talk to Mark face-to-face.

It had taken Sebastian a while to find the address on his phone from when Mark had sent it to him years ago. Mark moved shortly after their biggest fight in 2013, and Sebastian knew he was lucky he hadn’t just deleted it altogether. He’d been convinced he was never going to use it – at that time, he’d thought he was never going to speak to Mark again. But there was something magnetic about them. Sebastian couldn’t get away from him.

“Stupid soulmates,” Sebastian muttered. The drive was almost two hours from London to Mark’s house, Sebastian spent more energy than was strictly necessary focusing on driving so he didn’t have to think about what he was doing. It was probably a mistake, and when he rolled up to Mark’s house he had no idea what to say.

Sebastian wasn’t the kind of person to back down in the face of difficulty, though, and he parked the car and marched up to the front door. Mark must have seen him drive up, and the door opened before he even got to the porch. Mark bounced out, all smiles, which threw Sebastian so much he just stopped walking in the middle of the path. That was not even remotely the reaction he was expecting.

Mark looked properly at Sebastian and suddenly froze, smile sliding off his face. _He was waiting for someone,_ Sebastian realized, and couldn’t help but wonder who Mark was waiting for. Ann, maybe? Or someone else?

“Er, hi,” Mark finally said, looking shocked and confused, which was more the response Sebastian had been expecting.

“Hi.” They fell into an awkward and agonizing silence, but words suddenly seemed even more painful to force out and Sebastian choose to endure the muteness.

“I…didn’t know you were coming?” Mark said, voice turning up like a question. Sebastian imagined “what the hell are you doing here” would be a more accurate interpretation.

“It was sort of, ah, how do you say? Spontaneous.” Lewis had used the word the other day, and Sebastian felt the sudden need to show off his English. Like it was a fucking competition or something.

“Right,” Mark agreed. He looked like he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around what was going on. Sebastian didn’t blame him.

“I thought you had been calling a lot, and I have some time off before Canada, so I thought I would come talk. You said you wanted to, so…” Sebastian trailed off and gestured vaguely at the two of them. Nervousness churned in his stomach.

“Right,” Mark repeated, still looking unconvinced. “You don’t want to talk on the phone, but you’ll fly how many hours just to show up unannounced on my doorstep.” Sebastian scowled, his hesitance replaced with frustration. Couldn’t the man at least appreciate his efforts? Mark shrugged helplessly. “I just don’t know how to keep up with you, Sebastian. You’re all over the fucking map.”

“You’re right,” Sebastian snarled. “I always know right where I am with you, since you make your dislike for me so abundantly clear.”

“Hey!” Mark snapped in sharp protest, taking a step closer to Sebastian. “That is _not_ what I said!”

“Really?” Sebastian rebutted, walking closer. “Because that’s what I remember.” Mark didn’t immediately reply, so Sebastian kept going. “You ran around blaming _me_ for your failures, and that wasn’t fair to _me._ You have no idea, Mark! No idea how _hurt_ I was by your hate and your accusations!”

“You think you were the only one hurt? Try thinking about others for a fucking second, Sebastian. How do you think _I_ felt every time you cut me off, or disobeyed team orders-“

“I was there to _race,_ not pamper your inflated ego,” Sebastian sneered.

“It wasn’t about my ego!” Mark yelled back. He seemed to falter, pressing a hand to his chest before he continued quieter. “It was about doing what you were supposed to; we had an agreement, it was about _following that_ – it was about _trust,_ Seb–

“How was I supposed to trust you, Mark?! You never had _anything_ good to say about me. You didn’t _talk_ to me, barely even acknowledged my existence,” Sebastian marched into Mark’s space, crowding him out. Mark’s hand was fisted in his shirt, his breathing short.

 _“I_ didn’t talk to you? You didn’t talk to me! You didn’t need to, you didn’t need _me!_ You were the rising star, the hotshot who was going to take over the entire game, change all the rules, win all the awards. You _never needed me_ -“ Mark’s voice stuttered on the last word, and he keeled over onto Sebastian, gasping ineffectively for air.

“Mark?!” Sebastian cried in alarm, slowly lowering him to the ground as he continued to struggle for air. His hand was still fisted in the front of his shirt, over his heart, and when Sebastian pressed his fingers to Mark’s pulse point, his heartbeat was irregular and unsteady and way too fast. Sebastian didn’t know what that meant, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good, and he _knew_ he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Mark, you have to talk to me! What’s going on?” Sebastian asked, only slightly panicked, but Mark didn’t seem to hear him. He was completely unresponsive. Sebastian didn’t know how to help, if he could do anything to help. It was like Mark was having a heart attack –

 _“Scheisse,”_ Sebastian swore. He pulled out his phone and called an ambulance. The six minutes it took them to arrive were the longest of his life, and he could only thank the heavens Mark hadn’t stopped breathing entirely.

 

 

 “Why the hell didn’t you _tell_ me?” Sebastian roared, and Mark could see his knuckles whiten with the grip he had on the end of the hospital bed. Mark had woken up there an hour ago – apparently, after passing out in the middle of their argument back at the house. He could vaguely remember his vision going black, and not remembering how to breathe properly, but didn’t remember the ambulance ride at all. He would have been concerned about what that meant for his condition, but Sebastian yelling at him served as a good distraction.

“I _tried_. Several times!” Mark yelled back. “You never listened long enough for me to get there!”

“Maybe if you lead with, ‘Hello; I’m _dying_ ,’ I would have known to not hang up!”

“Oh, so you only listen to me when I’m dying, now, is that it?”

“You know that’s not what I mean!”

“Do I? Because I’m really not sure with you, Sebastian! You spend three fucking years trying to pretend I don’t exist and then suddenly show up at my fucking house out of the blue? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“At least I made an effort to come see you, like you fucking _asked_ , instead of just occasionally calling you at all hours.”

“At least I didn’t show up at your door just to pick an argument-“

“ _I_ picked an argument?” Sebastian was incredulous. “ _You_ are always the one picking the arguments! You and your stupid sarcasm, always prodding away at me! Did you ever, just _once,_ consider saying something _nice_ about me?”

“That’s not fair-“

“Stop it! Both of you!” a third voice interrupted, and both of them turned to face Mark’s doctor. Despite being shorter than both of them, Dr. Rajag cut an imposing figure as she marched into the room, full of fiery rage, and both obeyed immediately.

“I take it you’re the soulmate I hear so much about,” she said curtly to Sebastian, who could only nod dumbly. “Charmed,” Rajag replied drily. She turned her withering stare onto Mark. “And you. An _ambulance_ brings you into my hospital-“

“Doc, I can explain,” Mark tried, trying to dig himself out of an admittedly massive hole, but Rajag was having none of it.

“- _My_ hospital for extreme heart arrhythmia, and the _minute_ you’re conscious again you start _raising your bloody heartrate?”_ Mark had never seen her so angry before, and it was terrifying. “You should know better, Mark!”

“I know, Doc-“ he tried again, but Rajag wasn’t taking any of his bullshit.

“Clearly, you don’t.” She rounded on Sebastian, who was still standing in shock at the end of the bed. “And you could have bloody well lost your soulmate today and the minute he wakes up, you immediately antagonize him?”

“That’s not exactly-“ Sebastian tried, but she cut him off without a second glance.

“Are all racecar drivers this stupid?” She asked, turning back and looking pointedly at Mark.

“No, just this emotional,” he said in a rush, and she scowled at him.

“I know you two have your disagreements, but while Mark is in this hospital, you will get along. Or I will throw you out,” she added to Sebastian. “Which will only endanger his health further. Do you understand?”

Sebastian had paled a little at her words, and he nodded quickly. “Yes, completely.”

“Good.” Dr. Rajag heaved a sigh and turned back to Mark, eyes scanning the machines. “Now that your heartrate is more reasonable, how do you feel?”

Mark took a deep breath to buy himself time to answer that question. He could feel Sebastian’s eyes on him as well as hers, and he tried to ignore it. “Fine. I feel normal.”

“Mhm,” Dr. Rajag hummed, clearly skeptical. “No lingering pain in the chest, shoulder, or arm?”

“None.”

“No tingling sensation in the hand or fingers?”

“No.”

“No dizziness or light-headedness?”

“Doc, my heartbeat is on the monitor-“

“Is that a yes?”

“No; no dizziness or light-headedness.”

Rajag hummed again, and checked her tablet for more information. “What were you doing when the arrhythmia became so severe it caused you to pass out?” She kept her tone of voice completely neutral, but Mark knew she was passive-aggressively pissed at him.

“Having a…heated discussion,” he mumbled, and Rajag raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like the one I witnessed?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Rajag huffed in disapproval, clicked through a few more pages on the tablet, then turned it off and looked back at Mark. “This looks like it was an episode similar to the ones you’ve been previously having, only more severe, as you did actually lose consciousness. We might get lucky, and something this severe might never happen again; or, this could start to become a regular occurrence. Either way, you have to start seriously considering a the pacemaker option we talked about, Mark-“

“I don’t want a damn pacemaker,” Mark muttered with venom, and Dr. Rajag’s brow furrowed in concern.

“I know. And I understand that, I do, but until we can get this arrhythmia under control, you run a very serious risk of dying from it.” She stopped talking, and the sound of the beeping monitors filled the room. Mark shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, and Sebastian’s.

“There is another option,” Rajag continued, and Mark looked up in interest.

“Yeah?”

Rajag was staring purposefully at Mark. “You know I think the arrhythmia is a side-effect of the soulmate mark.” She paused, and Mark could hear the monitors beep faster. He had no idea where this was going. Even modern science couldn’t figure out how to separate soulmates; what could she possibly be offering? “If you restored your relationship with your soulmate to something that was supportive and fulfilling, I believe the arrhythmia would solve itself.”

Mark stared at her. That was not at all what he’d been expecting her to say, and he had no idea how he was supposed to feel about that. Theoretically, it was wonderful. It was an excuse to ask Sebastian for everything Mark had ever wanted. But Sebastian had made it perfectly clear a supportive relationship was completely off the books – and while they’d both had a hand in the destruction of that, Mark was pretty sure it was too far gone to ever get back. Dr. Rajag was still staring at him like she was waiting for an answer, so Mark forced himself to clear his throat and, as neutrally as he could, respond, “Okay.”

“It’s only an idea,” Rajag said. “It certainly can’t hurt.” Mark didn’t miss the way her eyes twitched in Sebastian’s direction, but she refused to look at him. “In any case, you’ve been normal since you go here – even during your ‘heated discussion’ – and I am clearing you to be discharged. Don’t let me see you back in the emergency room again,” she warned sternly, and Mark promised she wouldn’t.

Mark couldn’t bring himself to look at Sebastian after she left, but the check-out paperwork kept him busy enough to avoid having to until the two of them found themselves standing in the lobby of the hospital with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

“Do we have a car?” Mark asked, and Sebastian shook his head. “Do we have a wallet?” Sebastian only grimaced. Mark nodded once to himself. “And of course I don’t have my phone. Looks like we’re walking.”

“How far is it?”

“Only a couple kilometers,” Mark said casually, and Sebastian looked at him out of the corner of his eye as the exited the building. “Fifteen or seventeen, something like that,” Mark elaborated and Sebastian chuckled. The walked in silence until they hit the main road back to Mark’s house.

“Straight up this way?” Sebastian asked to clarify, and Mark nodded.

“Until you hit my mailbox.” Sebastian nodded thoughtfully, and Mark got the distinct impression he was plotting something. He was not disappointed.

“Race you!” Sebastian suddenly called out and took off running. Mark cried out in surprise, but immediately picked up his pace to follow. They kept up good time, and were home relatively quickly. Mark was pleased to note he was still faster on his feet than Sebastian was.

 

 

Sebastian woke up at one in the morning, and his head was killing him. It had reached the point where no amount of sleeping pills would help, and his usual practice was to burn energy: go to the gym, go for a run, hell even a walk around the block was enough to settle his mind, clear the headache, and then he could maybe get another three or four hours of sleep. He found some athletic shorts and a shirt in his backpack, and grabbed a sweatshirt in case it was cool outside – he had no idea what English weather was like – and sneaked out of the guest bedroom Mark had set him up in.

The house was completely dark, only faint light from the half-moon filtering in to allow Sebastian to see where he was going. He was sure Mark was sleeping by now; they’d both turned in early after the panic of the day – and, Sebastian was sure, also to avoid each other. He tried to be as quiet as he could, wincing every time the floorboards creaked or he stubbed his toe on an end table hidden in shadow. After a painful minute of fumbling through the unfamiliar house, Sebastian finally emerged through the bay doors out onto the porch. Mark had said on their way back from the hospital that he ran a track that followed the lake before curving back around to the house, and Sebastian figured he could follow that. It would probably be his best bet if he didn’t want to get lost.

Sebastian didn’t know where the track began, but the dock seemed to be the logical place to start, so he made his way down the boardwalk. His running shoes were silent against the wood, the only sound the bugs and occasional creak of an old board. He felt like both a ghost and a trespasser at the same time; like he was invisible in the world and didn’t belong there.

He had almost reached the dock by the time he saw Mark. He was far out on the dock, leaning against a wooden dock post jutting out of the flat expanse. He had a tumbler in his hand, a bottle of alcohol perched on the dock next to him. He was staring out over the water in silence, and clearly didn’t hear Sebastian coming. He almost walked right by Mark. A week ago he would have. But after the day they’d had, the argument, the hospital, the _truth_ – Sebastian walked down the dock, slowly heading straight for him.

Mark’s legs were straightened out in front of him, and he looked stretched and thin in the bad lighting. He’d changed into a tshirt and sweatpants, and they hung off him funny, making him look gaunt and tired, almost sickly. Sebastian watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the looseness in his limbs. He just wanted to press his ear to Mark’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. Would it sound normal? Was it irregular now, like a tiger waiting in the dark? Sebastian swallowed down the panic in his throat as he reached Mark and sat down next to his feet.

Mark turned slowly, languidly, to look at him, and Sebastian wondered if he was drunk. He hadn’t seen Mark this relaxed in years. Maybe ever. Was this what he was like when he wasn’t around Sebastian? Or racing? Was his life this much nicer without Sebastian in it?

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sebastian muttered, just to fill the silence, and he turned to look at the lake. In the all-consuming hush of the night, he could finally hear the sound of the water beating gently against the dock. It seemed magnified a thousand times louder than normal. There was a slight chill in the air, so he tugged the sweatshirt over his head.

“You still have all your Red Bull stuff?” Mark asked, and Sebastian frowned at the randomness of it. Mark gestured at Sebastian’s sweatshirt and, looking down, he realized it was one of the pieces from the leftover sponsor wear.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Sebastian shrugged. “Don’t you?”

“Some of it.” Mark shrugged. His eyes trailed over Sebastian’s torso, and he wondered what Mark was looking for. “Can you just talk to me?” Mark asked abruptly, and Sebastian had no idea what he was looking for. “Just tell me how we fucked this up so spectacularly?”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say to that. How was he supposed to cover everything that had happened since 2009? There had been so much, so much exhilaration and so much violence; where did he even begin? But Mark was looking at him so earnestly, Sebastian didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to him.

“I always thought loving you was a weakness. One I couldn’t have, not if I wanted to keep doing what I was doing,” Sebastian muttered to the lake. He could feel Mark’s eyes on him, was painfully aware of the attention. It made him overly self-conscious, and he felt like a child again. He just kept talking like Mark had asked. “I always had to live up to you, and then be better than you. I thought that meant doing whatever it took, but that’s not what made you so great, is it?” Sebastian finally stopped talking, and the sound of the lake seemed to roar in his ears, louder than normal.

“Loving is a weakness. I mean, look at me,” Mark laughed miserably. “Loving you is literally killing me.” Sebastian’s head whipped up to look at him; there was something so inherently _wrong_ in that statement Sebastian could barely stomach it. But Mark looked resigned, calm, only a little wistful. Sebastian wanted to slap him, ask him where his will to live had gone, and he hoped it was just the alcohol talking. Mark finally looked away from him and back out at the dark lake. A slight mist was starting to gather as the air continued to cool, almost glowing silver in the moonlight.

“I thought 2009 was going to be my season to finally achieve something great,” Mark said, his voice only a hoarse whisper Sebastian could barely hear. He pushed himself closer to Mark, until he was practically sitting right next to him, the whiskey bottle between them. Mark still didn’t look at him. “I thought the same thing in 2010. By 2011, I’d realized that wasn’t going to happen. I felt cheated at the time, but… Just my inflated ego, I guess.” Sebastian swallowed painfully, remembering his words from that morning.

“No. You were right. That’s not how we ran our races.”

“That’s how teams run their races now, though, isn’t it?” Mark finally looked back at Sebastian with a crooked grin. “Hamilton and Rosberg, right?” Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just behind the times,” Mark said soberly. Sebastian took a deep breath, tried to clear his chest of the heaviness that Mark’s tone made him feel.

“Not really. There was Monaco, after all,” Sebastian argued, and Mark shrugged.

“Those two are going to have it rough,” Mark muttered. “I can’t believe they’re soulmates.”

“They’re happy,” Sebastian said without thinking. He couldn’t get rid of the image of them at Monaco, practically joined at the hip even before they announced it; they had looked like nothing could disturb them the whole weekend, despite Nico’s bad race. Mark gave Sebastian a weird look. “What? They are.”

“Yeah,” Mark finally agreed. “I envy them.” Mark’s voice cracked, and Sebastian looked away in guilt. He picked up the whiskey bottle in front of him, fingering the label nervously. He couldn’t stand to look at Mark.

Sebastian wasn’t sure how long they sat like that; his sense of time was completely gone. Instead of counting seconds, he focused on the whiskey bottle, on the way water condensed around it, anything other Mark. He read the label, and wasn’t surprised it was Irish whiskey; Mark liked the good stuff, and the bottle must have cost him a small fortune.

He saw Mark move out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly there was a warm hand pressed against his cheek, long fingers reaching to the back of his neck. Sebastian pushed into the touch, turning to press his nose against the inside of Mark’s wrist.

“I know you want to be left alone,” Mark whispered and Sebastian looked up at him. He had to stop to swallow. “But please, Seb-Sebastian. Can you give me something? Just some of your time, if that’s all you want?”

Sebastian sat with the question for a while. Truth be told, he missed Mark sometimes. Being teammates with him had been nice, most of the time. When they weren’t fighting, they got along really well, slotting together like soulmates should. There had been good times. But Sebastian could never forget the bad times. When they went at each other, they went hard, to hurt and maim, and Mark was nothing if not good at that. Sebastian had learned a lot from him about how to hurt people.

“I don’t know, Mark. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you,” he said quietly, and he watched Mark’s eyes widen in pain and shock. Sebastian had never seen Mark cry, but in that moment he looked like he might. But Sebastian had to be honest.

Mark pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, and Sebastian supposed that was an appropriate metaphor for both of them. Mark hauled himself to his feet, tumbler still in hand, and wandered to the end of the dock. “I understand,” he said, voice gruff. Sebastian’s head started to throb in earnest.

He stood and followed Mark’s retreating back down the dock, ready to make an appeal. “Mark, please try to understand-“

“I think I _do_ , Sebastian,” Mark interrupted, without a stutter on Sebastian’s name. “I’m glad you’re happy with the way your life worked out.”

Sebastian felt like he could barely breathe. That wasn’t what he’d meant; how had he messed this up so badly? “That’s not what-“

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” Mark interrupted him, and it made Sebastian bristle. He’d done that often when they were teammates, and Sebastian had always hated it. Fine; if that was how he wanted to play, Sebastian could do that.

“Goodnight,” he snapped curtly, and turned to march back to the house. He kicked the whiskey bottle over with his foot, but didn’t bother to stop and right it.

 

 

Sebastian left early the next morning, and Mark barely saw him. He’d been fixing his first cup of coffee when Sebastian emerged from his bedroom, bag already packed. He’d hovered in the doorway of the kitchen and said an awkward goodbye, take care, all the usual platitudes. Mark had stood there, too tired and hung over to think of anything that would get him to stay. Sebastian left immediately after, and Mark watched the rental car drive away.

Perhaps it was for the best, he thought, as several hours later he watched Ann’s car drive back in. He was in the garage, door open, trying to distract himself making minor adjustments to his bicycle, enjoying the fresh air. Ann waved from the car, grabbed her purse, and climbed out. Mark noted with surprise that she was alone.

“G’day!” she called as she walks towards him. Mark set down the wrench in his hand and moved to meet her at the front of the garage. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, and smiled. “How are you?”

Mark forced a smile, not yet ready to ruin her good mood – she worried just as much as Fernando, if not more. “Live and kicking,” he joked, and she laughed brightly. “Looks like you had a good visit.”

“I did,” she agreed brightly. “Luke decided to stay for a while longer. He thinks there might be a future for him in surfing.”

Mark laughed. “Good for him.”

“Yes,” Ann agreed, then jerked her thumb back at the car. “Help me unload the luggage?”

“Always.”

Mark helped her take the suitcases inside and unpack it all. She spent the whole time talking about her trip, shouting it at him when they weren’t in the same room. Mark was sure she didn’t stop talking once. It was familiar and reassuring, and Mark felt infinitely comforted by her presence back in the house, especially after Sebastian’s 24 hour visit.

Ann didn’t stop talking until they’d put away the suitcases and she flopped down onto the couch, eyeing Mark expectantly, as if saying “Well? What did you do?” Mark didn’t want to talk about what he’d done, so he sat down next to her and changed the subject back to her.

“It’s been quiet round here. It’ll be nice to have someone around to help fill the space.” It was the first thing that popped into his head, but no less true. Ann smiled coyly.

“I just help fill the space?” she repeated, arching an eyebrow in challenge. Mark laughed.

“And I love the way you do it, darling.”

“Then you’re going to love this,” she said, and Mark detected a trace of sarcasm. “I got a very interesting voicemail left on my phone during the flight out of Melbourne. It was from the hospital, saying you’d been admitted, and were unconscious, and that I should give them a call back immediately.” Mark groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Of course they’d called her; she was his emergency contact. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“Did you?”

“Of course I did, you dipstick,” Ann retorted, unimpressed.

“And what did they tell you?”

“Just that you’d regained consciousness and left.” Ann stared at him. “What happened, Mark? And why did I have to hear about it from the _hospital?”_

“Ann, I- it- uhh.” Mark stuttered and sighed, at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to even begin to explain the last 24 hours.

“So it wasn’t just some cycling accident?” Ann asked, and Mark realized with a start that she really didn’t know _anything_.

“No…” Mark couldn’t find the words to explain what had happened in a good way, but Ann was staring at him and he knew she deserved an answer. She’d been sitting on this for a day already. “Er…Sebastian came by.” Ann kept her face neutral, but Mark could see the small things: the way the muscles in her jaw tightened, the tension that suddenly appeared in her neck.

“What happened?” she pressed in a quiet voice that only confirmed what Mark already knew. She was furious, at him or Sebastian, Mark didn’t know.

Mark shrugged, stood up, and wondered to the kitchen. “He showed up, we talked, went to the hospital, he left,” he said over his shoulder. Maybe comedy would make it better.

“Just like that,” Ann agreed sarcastically, following him to the kitchen. “Care to tell me _why_ you went to the hospital?”

“I wasn’t completely unconscious, if that makes you feel better.” He pulled a mug from one of the shelves, redirecting wildly.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Ann assured him. “Just tell me what happened, Mark! Did you get into a fight? Did you hit your head on something?”

“Not exactly,” Mark muttered. Ann made a “what then” gesture at him, getting more pissed by the second. He sighed. “The arrhythmia acted up.” Mark purposefully turned away from Ann to pour himself more coffee – cold and grainy by this point, but the microwave could solve one of those problems.

“What did Doc Rajag have to say about that?” Ann asked as Mark set the mug in the microwave.

Mark shrugged, finally turning around. Ann had gone slightly pale. “She was pissed–“

“Rightly so, I would think,” Ann interjected, and Mark ignored her.

“–but she said there wasn’t any reason to keep me.”

“She say anything about the pacemaker?” Ann didn’t even hesitate, and Mark flinched like she’d slapped him.

“It doesn’t matter because I’m not getting one.” The microwave beeped off as if to emphasis his point.

“Mark, you know a pacemaker won’t be the end of your life, quite the opposite, in fact–“

“It would be the end of my racing career and you know it!” Mark snapped, talking over Ann angrily. “I’m not giving that up because of this– _stupid_ abnormality!”

“It’s more than an abnormality! It’s threatening your life!” Ann yelled back. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you kill yourself out of stubbornness!”

Mark scoffed. “I’m not going to kill myself.” He started to walk out of the kitchen, turning his back on her.

“No, but Vettel might kill you!” Ann ranted, and Mark snapped around so fast he spilled his coffee.

“Hey!” he nearly roared, anger flooding his veins. “Do _not_ put this on him!”

“Why not?” Ann objected. “It’s only a problem whenever you’re around him! He is the _entire_ problem, Mark!”

“You better hope you’re wrong-“ Mark started and Ann barked a laugh.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Ann asked sarcastically.

“Because Rajag thinks he’s my cure!” Mark snapped back equally bitter, and the kitchen fell into silence. Ann was staring at him, shocked. Mark suddenly became aware his chest had started aching again. “She thinks if we had a good relationship the arrhythmia would disappear completely.”

Ann looked flabbergast. “How sure is she about this?”

Mark shook his head. “It seemed very informal. A Hail Mary Pass more than anything else.” The ache was still there, so Mark sat on the floor, leaning against the cabinets. After a moment, Ann moved to join him, bumping knees affectionately.

“So what’s worse?” She asked, and Mark frowned at her. “Making peace with Vettel, or getting a pacemaker implanted?”

Mark looked away and stared at his coffee. “Making peace wish Sebastian would be perfect. We just never seem able to do it.” He felt Ann drape an arm over his shoulders.

“Does he know he could help?”

“Yeah,” Mark assured her, his heart still pounding furiously. He could feel Ann’s hold on him tighten.

“But he’s got other priorities,” she uttered bitterly. Mark looked at her and saw the anger sketched into the lines of her face. He looked away when he couldn’t bare it any longer.

“I need to fix this,” he muttered to himself and Ann snorted.

“You sure Vettel left something there to fix?”

“You need to back off him a bit,” Mark said, not unkindly, but Ann snorted again. She was clearly unimpressed with his protectiveness. Sebastian probably would be, too, Mark thought.

“I just want to make sure you do what’s right by you,” Ann explained. Mark rolled his eyes at her.

“A pacemaker is not what’s right for me.”

“Are you sure Vettel still is?” Ann rebutted, and Mark couldn’t answer that. Experts said soulmate marks were strategic, only appearing when the pair was emotionally prepared to form a relationship. Everyone just assumed that both partners would drop everything in order to realize that; as far as Mark knew, no one had any idea what would happen if soulmates put it off for years, purposely divorcing themselves from each other. Even to his uneducated ears, it didn’t sound good.

“I’ll figure it out, Ann,” Mark promised, looking her in the eye. She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t disagree either, and Mark counted that as a win.

 

 

The season kept Sebastian busy enough to pretend that he didn’t have the time to call Mark. And, really, why should he? They’d both made it pretty clear they still weren’t ready for each other in their lives; that was that, for another three years or so. If Mark lasted that long.

Sebastian tried not to think about that part. It bothered him that Mark never told him just how sick he really was, and he felt slightly guilty for reasons he could never quite put his finger on. The headaches were always worst when he thought about it, and he tried to keep the whole thing out of his mind as much as possible.

They were impossible to avoid in Silverstone, though, with Mark drifting up and down the track freely during practice and qualifying. He’d love to say that it had nothing to do with his poor performance – the team overall had a bad performance, so he had lots of excuses – but he was pretty sure he knew better as a splitting headache had been his constant companion during the race. More than just the annoyance it usually was, it made it hard for him to focus, and Sebastian was not at all happy with his final position, barely in the points as he was. He’d should have done so much better.

If nothing else, the (personal) silver lining was it kept him off the podium. Sebastian hadn’t been able to look at Nico and Lewis the same since they came out to the press. He watched them each weekend, each race, negotiating the press and the FIA and Nico’s wife and daughter and racing. He couldn’t understand how they made it all work. They certainly didn’t make it look easy, and there were still obvious tensions there that the press loved to pick at and write about. But they were managing, and surviving; hell, they sometimes even looked like they were happier now than they had been before.

Sebastian could imagine that future, but he also knew it wasn’t possible for him and Mark at that point. They’d blown it back in 2013, and they’d blown it every future chance they got after that. Sebastian was sure about that, until Mark ambushed him outside the motorhome.

He was loitering in front of the door to Sebastian’s trailer, clearly just waiting for him to show up. He looked at Sebastian with weary, tired eyes, and he looked sad. “What do you want?” Sebastian snapped, tired and miserable himself. He didn’t have the mental or physical energy to handle whatever argument they were about to have.

“To buy you a drink, mate,” Mark said, and Sebastian scowled at him. But his face was open and honest, and he even wore a wry smile. “You look like you could use one.”

“Yeah, I could,” Sebastian agreed, staring at Mark. He nodded amicably, then shrugged when Sebastian didn’t continue.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sebastian tried to push it off like it was nothing, marching into the motorhome. “You could buy me one. Or ten.” Mark laughed, and Sebastian could hear him climb into the motorhome after him.

“Sounds about right,” Mark agreed, and Sebastian smirked at the wall in front of him.

“Great,” Sebastian confirmed, as if that sealed it. He disappeared into the bedroom section, out of sight of Mark, and changed in silence. Once upon a time, Sebastian wouldn’t shut up when talking to Mark, but that had been a long time ago. They hadn’t been that comfortable for years.

Mark knew a side exit on the track that none of the press knew, and he looked so proud of himself Sebastian couldn’t stop a smile. It was a look that suited Mark. They went back to Mark’s hotel room, simply because there would be less press, and he pulled out a bottle of alcohol, handing it to Sebastian for approval.

“I didn’t know you drank schnapps,” he remarked, looking over the bottle. It was a good brand, strong stuff, German-made and everything.

Mark shrugged casually. “I don’t. But Kimi said you did.” Sebastian laughed and cracked the seal on the bottle. Mark set out two glasses.

“Had this all planned out then?”

“Well, since I can’t out-race you, I figured I had to out-smart you,” Mark joked. Sebastian froze in place, but Mark looked lighthearted and calm, so Sebastian tried not to read anything into it. He poured a tall glass of schnapps for them both, and downed half of his in one go. Mark chucked as he sipped his own.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“You thought I was?” Sebastian returned, grabbing the bottle and dropping onto Mark’s couch.

The smile dropped of Mark’s face. “Nah. I know that look from a mile away.”

“What look?” Sebastian frowned at him, and took another drink of schnapps.

“The ‘I’m better than this’ look.” Mark settled into the seat across from Sebastian, a safe and respectable distance between them, not to mention the table. “I saw it in the mirror a lot after 2009.” Sebastian couldn’t tell if the remark was meant to be accusatory or not, so he finished his drink and poured another one.

Mark kept talking, filling the silence mostly with nonsense, but occasionally commenting on his own life. He talked about the racing briefly, and later mentioned his cycling. Sebastian loved the little comments, like windows of insight into Mark’s world. Eventually, Mark slowed down, then stopped talking altogether. Sebastian had gone through at least three glasses of schnapps, maybe more, and was starting to feel a little fuzzy. He wasn’t sure he could have walked in a straight line if someone had asked him to get up.

“I’m glad you came over,” Mark said quietly, and Sebastian had to strain to hear him.

“So am I,” Sebastian slurred. Mark watched him and looked almost happy. Sebastian felt pretty damn good himself; better than he had the rest of the day, anyway. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Why can’t we do this more often?”

“Good question,” Mark agreed. Sebastian huffed.

“We should do this more often.” He grabbed the schnapps bottle and tried to refill his glass, but couldn’t seem to line them up correctly. Mark grabbed his hand before he spilled the entire thing and helped him pour it neatly. Mark’s hand was giant and warm, and didn’t go away when they set the bottle back on the table. Sebastian stared at it. “Thanks,” he muttered, because it seemed important.

“You’re welcome,” Mark whispered, voice slightly hoarse. Sebastian looked up at him. The silence stretched thin. “Why can’t I be a part of your life?” Mark finally asked, voice still a whisper. The lines of his face were filled with sorrow; Sebastian could practically feel it radiating off him. He reached out and grabbed hold of Mark’s shoulder with his free hand.

“You can be,” he slurred. In the back of his mind he felt like it was more complicated than that, but whatever it was couldn’t have been that important, he was sure. He grinned at Mark, convinced he’d just solved the entire problem.

In contrast, Mark’s smile was small and sad. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”

“’m not drunk!” Sebastian protested indignantly. At least, he wasn’t _that_ drunk. “I know what I’m talking about!”

“Sure you do, mate,” Mark chuckled, and Sebastian was fairly sure he was being insulted. “C’mon. Drink your drink. Let’s change the topic.” He pushed the glass of schnapps back to Sebastian. “How’s Hannah? You never talk about her anymore?”

Sebastian’s face crumpled and he pulled his hand from Mark’s grasp to grab his glass and take a long drink. When he finally surfaced for air, Mark looked apologetic.

“Bad topic?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Things aren’t great. We keep it civil for the girls, but we haven’t been together for more than a year.”

Mark looked down at his glass. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Sebastian snorted, and Mark frowned at him.

“Yeah, I am mate.” Mark insisted. Sebastian shook his head and looked away; there was no reason Mark should be sorry about that. The silence was heavy, and he wanted to cry and then sleep for 100 years.

“She’s got a new boyfriend,” he mumbled instead. He wasn’t sure why he was telling Mark this, but he didn’t have anyone else to talk to, and if felt good to finally tell someone. “The girls don’t like him. I’m not around as much as I used to be, and I think they’re starting to notice.”

“You must miss them,” Mark said, and Sebastian nodded dejectedly.

“I do. A lot.” There was nothing else he could say. Sebastian was trying very hard not to let his tears fall, but he couldn’t keep them in anymore, and the fat drops fell down his face. He pressed his hand to his eyes in embarrassment, but there was no stopping them. He heard Mark get up, then the couch dropped next to him and Mark’s arm fell across Sebastian’s shoulders. He pulled Sebastian close to him and just held onto him as he tried to stop crying.

Sebastian sniffed, finally stopped crying, and wiped his eyes dry with his sleeves. He felt suddenly sober, and his bitterness at Mark came back in a rush. He pushed himself away from Mark miserably. “Go ahead. Gloat.”

 _“What?”_ Mark asked, visceral confusion in his voice. Sebastian glowered at the floor, not willing to look at him.

“Go ahead! Tell me you were right! That I shouldn’t have tried to make things work with her!” he snapped.

“Sebastian-“ Mark pleaded, but Sebastian wasn’t having it.

“You said it back then; so say it now-“

“I’m sorry!” Mark yelled, and there a tone in his voice Sebastian hadn’t heard before. He looked over at Mark, and his eyes were wet and red-rimmed, too; his face contorted. “I’m sorry,” he continued, and Sebastian could see him trying to not cry any harder. “For everything I ever said to you. I never meant to hurt you. Not like I did. I didn’t– If I’d–“ He stopped and swallowed, and looked away from Sebastian, shame written clearly on his face.

“If you’d _what,”_ Sebastian sneered. It was a long time until Mark responded.

“You always looked like it didn’t bother you. If I’d known how much I was really hurting you, I never would have said a word.” He grimaced. “Bit late for that, huh?”

“You didn’t think it bothered me?” Sebastian asked, incredulous.

Mark finally looked at Sebastian again, raw pain written in every line. “No, I didn’t, I swear.”

Sebastian was at a loss. “Really?” Everything Mark had said, all the verbal sparring and endless criticism, could _not_ have been just a misunderstanding. “You honestly didn’t think that everything you said could possibly have hurt me?”

Mark hesitated. “I…knew they were hurtful words. I just didn’t think you,” Mark shrugged, “I guess I didn’t think you took them to heart.”

“What?” Sebastian sputtered in confusion. “You thought I just ignored everything you said?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Did you ignore me?” Sebastian demanded, skeptical. To be fair, he supposed, he’d always imagined Mark had been ignoring _him_. Maybe it wasn’t that impossible Mark wouldn’t meet his gaze, though, and Sebastian was fairly sure he knew what that meant. “You didn’t ignore me, did you?”

Mark laughed, but it was bitter and self-depreciating. It made Sebastian’s skin crawl. “I don’t think I have quite the ego you imagine I do.” It took a minute for the words to sink in, but when they did Sebastian gapped at him in horror.

“How much did I hurt _you?”_ he whispered. Mark looked up at him harshly.

“No,” he growled. “Do _not_ feel guilty for this.” He looked away again. “You were only giving as good as you got.”

Sebastian was fairly sure that wasn’t right, but his moment of sober clarity was gone and he was starting to fall asleep again. “I’m too drunk for this,” he moaned decisively.

“We’re both too drunk for this,” Mark affirmed. Sebastian hummed in agreement, and set his glass on the table. He stretched out on the couch, his legs ending in Mark’s lap, head against the armrest. Mark didn’t seem to mind, setting his own cup on the table and cupping his hand around Sebastian’s calf, the other stroking gentle circles on Sebastian’s kneecap. Sebastian’s body felt heavy, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he decided he was fine with that and let himself fall asleep.

 

 

Mark didn’t mean to fall asleep with Sebastian’s legs in his lap, but his body had other plans. He hadn’t even realized he’d done so until he was slowly and blearily waking up the next morning. The curtains were open and the sunlight was painful to his hungover eyes. He winced, trying to roll over on the couch; he couldn’t even remember why he was sitting up and there was this heavy weight on his lap.

 _“Was…_ ” Sebastian mumbled to his left and Mark froze, suddenly very awake. This was _not_ good.

“Hey…” he started as gently as he could, as much for his own sake as for Sebastian’s. He really hoped they didn’t devolve into a shouting match; he wasn’t sure his head could handle that, hungover as he was. He felt Sebastian’s leg muscles clench below him, and there was a moment of mutual panic.

“…I fell asleep,” Sebastian finally said, somewhere between a question and a statement. It was not very encouraging.

“We both did,” Mark responded, and added, because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth _shut-_ “This was not what I had in mind, I swear-“

“Relax,” Sebastian chuckled, and Mark finally looked at him. He had a hand thrown over his eyes, long neck stretched back over the couch arm. Mark swallowed nervously. “Close the curtain and I’ll forgive you,” Sebastian added.

“I can do that,” Mark said immediately, and carefully extracted himself from Sebastian’s legs. Sebastian just kept laughing quietly. Mark knew he was joking – for the most part at least – which was, ostensibly, a good sign. Mark could barely keep his eyes open in the light, but he yanked the curtains closed sharply and disappeared into the kitchenette. He really didn’t need Sebastian to witness his morning wood.

The clock on the microwave said 8:03, which wasn’t terrible. He didn’t know if Sebastian had somewhere he needed to be, so Mark started a pot of coffee and hovered nervously over it while it stewed. Slowly, as the smell of coffee began to permeate the air, the previous night’s conversation came back to him. He remembered the ugly feeling of realizing, all at once, that Sebastian had actually _listened_ to what Mark had said to him. Mark had always accused him of being a child; he’d never stopped to consider what came with that: an openness, a vulnerability, that Sebastian would have denied existed, but Mark knew it must have been there. Sebastian hadn’t had the thick skin of the other drivers; and Mark had ripped him to shreds mercilessly.

Mark felt like he was going to vomit, and his heart might beat right out of his chest. He stooped slightly, bracing himself on the counter and trying to restore some balance to his body. He breathed slowly and evenly, and counted. After 102 he was able to stand up again.

Mark couldn’t help looking over the counter at Sebastian in the other room. He was just pulling himself up on the couch, slow and sluggish with sleep and a hangover. He didn’t look jumpy, he didn’t look angry; he actually looked very relaxed. It scared the shit out of Mark.

He purposefully ignored Sebastian when he stood up, and instead tried to focus on the coffee. The tiny dribble seemed to be taking a century to fill the pot; he was sure time had stopped completely just to keep him in suspense. He could hear Sebastian wander into the kitchenette and lean against the counter next to him.

“They say a watched pot never boils,” Sebastian observed quietly, amusement in his voice. Mark finally looked at him. His customary smile was back on his face; he looked beautiful even with hangover bruises under his eyes. Mark’s stomach flipped and he looked away, bile rising in his throat. “What?” Sebastian pressed, one hand suddenly appearing against the inside of Mark’s elbow. “What’s wrong?”

Mark really didn’t want to have that conversation, but he had to own up to his mistakes sometime. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat again. “I can’t get over what I did to you.” Mark whispered. For a moment nothing happened, then Sebastian withdrew his hand. It hurt _so much_ , and it felt like he was losing everything he’d always wanted _again –_ but Mark knew he deserved it. The ruins of their relationship wasn’t Sebastian fault, it didn’t even fall on both of them together; it was _his_ fault, and his alone.

“What we did to each other-“

“No, I told you last night. You’re not putting this back on you,” Mark insisted sharply. Sebastian didn’t say anything back, and the silence was crippling. _We do like our silences_ , Mark thought wryly. He sighed, mentally exhausted, and bent over to rest his forehead on the counter in surrender. “I can’t believe I didn’t see how much it bothered you.”

Mark heard Sebastian move closer, felt him put a hand on his shoulder. “I was so obsessed with becoming you – becoming better than you – that I thought I couldn’t tell you. I thought, I guess, that I had to be tougher than that. Like it would be a sign of weakness to say anything.”

Mark was pretty sure he was about to vomit again, and the hangover wasn’t helping. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.”

Sebastian sighed in exasperation. “No, Mark, that was me! _I_ was too arrogant and too stubborn, always trying to be the best at everything.”

“I’m pretty sure that just means you’re a good driver,” Mark retorted, straightening up slightly. Comedy was always his fallback.

Sebastian sighed again. “Yeah. But. You don’t do it to the point where you hurt people.”

“And I didn’t?” Mark asked with venom.

“We _both_ did,” Sebastian said softly. “But we don’t have to be like that anymore.” Mark stared at the coffee, barely even breathing.

“You said, at my house, on the dock-“ he stopped and swallowed “-You said you could never forgive me.” Mark let the sentence hang in the air. Sebastian didn’t move, so he kept talking. “Is that still true?” Neither of them did anything for a moment, then Sebastian moved and rested his chin on Mark’s shoulder, slowly sliding his arms around Mark’s waist. The silence dragged on.

“I think…” Sebastian finally started, “that might have been a little premature.” Mark didn’t say anything; he wanted to let Sebastian get it all out. “Part of me can’t believe you didn’t know. Part of me understands completely because…I didn’t know I said anything hurtful either.” Mark turned his head sharply toward Sebastian, just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. He could feel Sebastian’s breath on his cheek.

“Do you mean we’ve just been talking past each other for seven years?” The realization slowly dawned on Mark.

“I think so,” Sebastian laughed lightly. Mark could feel it where Sebastian’s chest was pressed to his back.

“Unbelievable,” Mark whined. He felt Sebastian nod.

“I think we should spend more time together,” Sebastian continued. “This is kind of nice. And…” he hesitated, “It would probably help your, what is it? Arith-arithma?”

Mark smiled. “Heart Arrhythmia. And yeah. This is really nice.”

“Now that we’re finally being honest with each other,” Sebastian added, and Mark snorted.

“Apparently.”

“How did we get into this loop?” Sebastian suddenly asked, and Mark could see him frown in the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know, mate. It’s a crazy sport.” Mark shrugged with his free shoulder.

Sebastian hummed in agreement. “It is.” He tightened his grip on Mark, sliding a hand up over his heart. “This is nice, though. I could get used to this.” Mark murmured his assent and linked his fingers with Sebastian’s. _So could I_ , he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. It had always been in the works; since I wrote the first prompt fill I had always intended to explore their relationship further, but I didn't have room for it in that story. I meant to get this out a month ago, but school started back up and monopolized my time for a while. However! Here it is! I hope this keeps with the general theme and tone from the first. I just couldn't get these two sad boys out of my head. I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to leave a comment; I love hearing what you have to say.
> 
> EDIT: Lemme just say, if I had waited a day before publishing this, things would have been very different; I just read Mark is going to retire! I'll miss him! I hope he's enjoyed his time in racing; I know we've loved having him around <3


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